Fix it
by 116788
Summary: Oneshot. 'He closed his eyes and imagined Olivia's arms wrapped around him. Her long hair tickling against his cheek and her nose nuzzling in his neck. Her touch was like a drug to him and he was wasting away without it.'


I don't own The Haunting of Hill House nor its characters nor the plot. But I do own my own feelings about the show and its amazing message and I was inspired to write this prompt cause I adore the relationship Hugh and Olivia had. Their story is tragic, but beautiful in its own twisted, unique way. Anyway, hope I did them justice.

Hugh Crain was a simple man. He did not have many desires and if he ever had ones, they'd already been fulfilled. Once he'd had it all; a job, a wife, a family. Once he had considered himself the luckiest man alive, the proudest father and husband there ever was. Once.

Sitting in his loungewear in a big fauteuil, he held a picture frame between his hands, stroking whatever was on the picture lovingly. A tear trickled down his cheek and he tried to swallow the big uncomfortable lump at the back of his throat.

"I miss you, my love." He whispered at the woman in picture frame, staring at her beautiful smiling face.

 _"I'm here though."_

Hugh's heart leaped upon hearing her soft melodious voice, relished in it. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, imagining her standing right in front of him. Dressed in that gorgeous blue dress that he loved so much on her. It had been quite some time since she had talked with him and he realised how much he missed their conversations.

"It's been too long, Liv."

His eyes were still closed. A short pain struck his chest and he grimaced, hissing through his teeth. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a bottle of pills and popped on into his mouth, swallowing immediately. After a while his chest began to relax and Hugh leaned back into his fauteuil, staring at his ceiling.

"I wish I could feel your touch again." He whispered into the air. "I wish I could see you again."

 _"But you can, Hugh."_

He shook his head. "No, I am not going back to the house. Not ever."

 _"You don't have to go back to the house to see me, I'm right there, on your lap."_

Hugh stared at the picture frame and bit his lip. Another sharp pain hit him hard in the chest. He grabbed at it forcefully, as if he could stop it from the outside.

"That's not enough." He argued. "How can this flat piece of paper ever be enough compared to what I used to have?"

A real family. Not a photo. Not a thought.

 _"Remember that night?"_

He did. Oh how he remembered that night. That fateful night. That night that wasn't supposed to happen. That night when he last saw her and when their last words exchanged were supposed to be of love and acceptence, but instead were in confusion and anger.

Hurrying his kids out of the house and ready to drive off, Hugh had taken one last glance through his mirror. In one of the windows on the first floor he saw her figure, staring after them as they fled. She just stood there, hands pressed against the glass, staring. Later he remembered that he found it odd, this peculiar serenity. Especially given her state of sheer panic earlier. But he back then only knew what he had seen, and he had seen her poisoning a kid and almost his own two children. And so his first instinct told him to grab the children and flee. He needed to get them to a safe place before he could talk with his wife. So no, he did not think twice and slammed on the gas pedal, ignoring Steven's pleas and Shirley's confused accusations.

Of course he would not know that this would be the last time he ever saw his wife alive. He could not have known. The night before they had talked so sincerely with each other and she had seemed so willing to take a step back and leave for a week. He could not have foreseen her decision to end her life, and though he could not find it in his heart to hate her for it, he did feel pain, and utter disappointment that she had not been able to wait for his return. That she thought he would leave her there all alone. True, he had, but only for fifty minutes, and then he had returned. Only to find her d-...

Hugh did not want to think about that. Finding her on the library floor, lifeless, empty… Of course, it was her, he knew that. But all the same it wasn't her. The woman he had known and loved for so long had been replaced by someone else, someone who was so afraid of the world that not even her own husband was allowed inside her carefully constructed walls. He hadn't noticed her changing into this person, it happened too quickly he guessed. One day she had been full of excitement, hopes and dreams. The next day she had been a scared mouse, not even daring to step foot outside the entrance.

Not a single cell in his body doubted his love for her, but she had changed, and not for the better. Still, he loved her all the same. And as he had cradled her limp form in his arms, he had sobbed out his heart because he knew his love for her had not been able to provide what she needed. She obviously needed something else, and he felt guilt and utter shame for not having been able to give it to her. And now his children would now grow up without their mother, and he would have to live without her by his side. It would be unbearable. She was his kite. She held him up during hard winds. Without her, he was afraid he would fall into an endless pit and would never be able to get up. Not on his own.

Though Hugh did not regret the decision to save his children. He was their father, he had to protect them, even if the world would hate him for it. Even if they would hate him for it. But he did regret that he could not save his family from the pain this event would cause them and for a loss that would never be able to be replaced. For that, he was eternally sorry and wished he could change the past.

Life after Olivia had been hard for him. She had been his light, his joy and his future. She had taken it all with her when she had gone. The days became long and grey, their children moved in with Liv's sister Janet and he practically became reclusive, stayed inside most of his days and wasted away behind old stuffy books. He did not have anything of hers that would console him in his grief, everything was left at the house and he had not dared to come back. The only few things he did have left of her was a small collection of her books that were stashed in the glove compartment of his car together with a picture of their family before they moved into Hill House.

Some days he would smell the books, inhaling her unique scent, though it had faded over the years. It reminded him of fresh pine forrests after a rain had washed through them. The notes and scribbles she had written on some of the pages were like knives to his heart but he cherished any feeling than this numbness that had settled deep in his bones. His days he wasted away by wishing for that what would not be, imagining a life with her still here and his family intact.

 _"That night is your way in, Hugh. Talking about what happened that night is your way back into our family."_

Hugh shook his head stubbornly. How could he ever talk about it? Everyone cursed that night, he could not come barging back into his children's lives and start telling stories they didn't want to hear. He simply wouldn't. For protection sake.

 _"You can't keep running from this, Hugh."_

He knew that. He knew. But running was so easy and it seemed so right. Seeing his wife going from a loving and caring mother to a complete mental wreck within weeks impacted him hugely. And he did not know how to cope with the fact that he wasn't able to help her, that he could not fix her like he fixed so many other projects. So he chose to run. And once he was running, he realised how much he liked it. And he kept running.

Hugh stared out of the window. The rain was pouring down and blurred any clear view he had. The cars that drove past were yellow and red spots on a dark canvas in the night. He sighed as he took a sip of his whiskey, wishing he could just drink away his existence.

 _"One day, you'll have to come face to face with them. They'll have questions, and you have the answers."_

He closed his eyes and instead imagined Olivia's arms wrapped around him. Her long hair tickling against his cheek and her nose nuzzling in his neck. Her touch was like a drug to him and he was wasting away without it. And then she pulled away, even in his imagination, she pulled way. He could feel her essence growing fainter and by the time he did not feel her around him anymore, he had grown so desperate that he started shouting into any given direction.

"Liv, please." He begged. "Tell me a story, about anything. I just-…. I need to hear your voice, tell me that you're here. I don't want to be alone."

 _"But you're not alone, Hugh."_

It went quiet after that. And Hugh waited for a story. Or a phrase. Or even a word. He waited the entire night, and the day after and the week after that. But she didn't talk to him anymore. No matter how much he begged, pleaded or wished. She refused to come to him, stubborn as she was, even in d-...

And then, when he was so starved for social interaction, he finally made a decision and picked up his cellphone to dial a number.

"….Dad?"


End file.
